


Hand in Hand

by dragonsong (NekoAisu)



Series: audeamus | let us dare [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Ambiguous Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Fealty AU, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Flirting, Gender-Neutral Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Kings & Queens, Lionheart Warrior of of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Multi, Other, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Prince G'raha Tia Crystal Exarch, Royalty, Waltzing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 18:46:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21324901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoAisu/pseuds/dragonsong
Summary: The Warrior of Light, sworn protector to the youngest prince of Allag, and unwilling participant in social niceties spits, “And your lead is, of course, infallible, your Radiance. I had assumed dead men could not waltz.”“Ah, but you see—“ he says, grip tightening ever so slightly on their waist “—I could not stay away from an old friend for long.”
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Series: audeamus | let us dare [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537354
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	Hand in Hand

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again with Fealty AU  
do I know anything about waltzing? no. i am a little creacher,,,,,

“What terrible posture you have.”

The Warrior of Light, sworn protector to the youngest prince of Allag, and unwilling participant in social niceties spits, “And your lead is, of course, infallible, your Radiance. I had assumed dead men could not waltz.”

“Ah, but you see—“ he says, grip tightening ever so slightly on their waist “—I could not stay away from an old friend for long.”

The Warrior’s attempt at neutrality (paltry as it has been) is thoroughly shattered by the touch. “T’would do you well to remove your hand from my person, lest I need remove it with my blade.”

“The one you are not in possession of, yes?” Solus laughs, quietly amused, and very pointedly ignores how their hand tries to slip from his. So many incarnations later and they are still a spitfire. He does not enjoy it being all animal malice, however. The true them he had known was cunning, quick witted, and blunt. This little imitation is a knockoff. Single-minded, vitriolic, and graceless enough to heave around a huge and semi-blunted claymore for the sake of a bastard “chosen king.”

Where is _his_ devotion? That prince simply sits on his fancy little throne, tall staff in hand, and watches his precious Lionheart dance with the dead emperor of a far-away country. What a terrible creature he is to not show Psy—no. _No_. This is not them. This will _never_ be them.

But he can still enjoy picking them apart, rooting through their memories, inching the hand high on their waist downward until they glare knives at him. He does these things in fits and starts, frivolous with his power. They try to fight his lead and step away when their prince calls them, but Solus’s hold is unyielding.

“I have been summoned and as such must obey,” they say sharply. “Release me.”

Solus smiles and the gold of his eyes seems to glow in the light of the ballroom. “You can leave whenever you so wish,” he replies, “but I do not believe you wish this to end.”

They spit curses at him under their breath and attempt to make a strategic escape. Making it look like the emperor of Garlemald and all associated territories was accosting them would not look good for the tenuous ceasefire being arranged after G’raha’s coming of age festival winds to a close. They could not afford to jeopardize the safety of their people.

They follow the emperor’s lead smoothly enough, stomping on his feet with purpose every few beats. It is a blessing that Allagan dress uniform includes a floor length robe. They take full advantage of the obscurity to make Solus wince. Not that he _does, _but the intent is still there.

It takes three more songs and a pleading “Kill Him Before I Do” type of look shot toward their prince before they are freed. Solus smiles as G’raha approaches and leans in, whispering uncomfortably close to their ear, _“Do remember my name properly, old friend. It is Emet-Selch.”_

He pulls back and twirls them right into the arms of their ridiculous crystal prince. G’raha has some level of understanding when he offers his own company in exchange, citing a rotation of the guard as grounds for his Lionheart to take up residence by the throne. “If you would grant me the honor, may I ask for a dance, your Radiance?”

And so they do, the prince far worse at the waltz than his jack-of-all-trades warrior. “There is something off about you?”

“Is it the odd aether?”

Solus smiles with a patronizing curl to his lips. “So you are not useless, after all. The first decent princeling in the entire history of Allag and of _course_ you have their affections unto death.” He can hear the murmurs shaping and warping in corners about royalty dancing together so intimately (to allow the leader of another country to lead, how scandalous) and asks, “Would you marry them?”

“I— No! They are not someone I could bear to burden further,” G’raha says, tripping over a few words in his haste. “They deserve to live a life without court interference.”

“And you believe having them as your lifelong guard is safer,” Solus accuses. He follows the lull in the music to dip the prince, pulling nearly the same maneuver as what he had done to the Warrior to ask, “I assume you would have no objections to my request for their hand, then?”

G’raha flushes down to his chest at the combined proximity and the insinuation that his longtime friend and dearest companion is something to be given away. “You will find,” he growls, “that some diplomacy should be handled with more _tact_ and less _intent_.” He pulls himself from Solus’s grip with obvious fury and strides away.

What a curious creature he is indeed.

The event concludes without further issue, but there are five more days to go before the festival is through. He has time to burn, for what it is worth. There is nothing that princeling can do to keep him from thoroughly ruining the plaything with his old friend’s face.

With that in mind, he begins the next day’s soirée with a public announcement.

“Ladies, gentlemen, people of the court, I bid you good morning. I have a small announcement to make. It will take but a moment. I announce my intent to court His Highness G’raha of Allag’s Lionheart. If there are any in attendance who object my claim, speak now.”

The dining hall erupts into pandemonium.

**Author's Note:**

> on a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate Emet's attempts at seduction? i vote 2. it still works, but damn if the WoL isn't angry about it
> 
> hmu on:  
tumblr | https://ffxivimagines.tumblr.com/  
twitter | twitter.com/FlamingAceKiri  
discord | NekoAisu#7099


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